Missing, Not Lost
by JaspersLilRed
Summary: Kurt's mother didn't just die when he was young. She ran away and took him with her to New York. Now all these years later, Kurt's trying to find his way back home. What about if he finally makes it home and sees his dad with a new family? AU
1. Cuz we're gonna be Fantastic!

**Okay, I need to stop writing new stories without finishing old one's... it's a bad thing. :/ oh well.**

**I wrote this on an airplane, with my iphone, on Notes. So if it's not too great, my bad. haha **

**Hope you enjoy! And this is my first Glee Fic, so constructive help is greatly appreciated. Be gentle with me ;_;**

**Song- Missing Children by Maurice Davis. He's AmAziNG!**

* * *

><p>"Yuck!" Finn coughed and spat as dust exploded all around him. "What the hell?" he growled.<p>

"My bad..." Puck said, frozen. "I told you I wouldn't be any help, didn't I?"

"I thought," Finn rubbed his eyes with the clean part of his sleeve, "I thought you were just trying to get out of it."

"I was." Puck shoved another cardboard box onto a shelf. "Step-Dad really hasn't been up here in a long time. Why do you have to clean it? It's not your job," Puck growled.

"First of all, as my best friend, you can't get out of it. Second, Burt just asked if I could clear some room up here so we could put stuff from my old house." After that both boys were quiet, preoccupied with their work, Finn determined, and Puck slow and grumpy.

"Hey Finn, what's this?" When Finn turned to look, Puck tossed the biggest roach carcass he could find in his friends direction. Finn barked out a scream and flung himself backwards, arms flailing, knocking over several boxes that landed with him on the ground.

"Puckerman!" Finn growled angrily from the floor, already brushing debris from his shirt. Puck was doubled over in silent laughter, unable to control himself. Finn was about to lift himself up when he saw what surrounded him.

"Dude... You should have," Puck tried to suck in more air, but he was laughing too hard, "seen your... face."

Finn ignored his friend and lifted one of the photos so he could see it in the dim light. It was a young, smiling Burt with a sleeping little boy in his arms. In another photo was the same boy, bright eyed, brown hair sticking out in every direction, standing on Burt's knees with both hands in the air. "You just... fell like a... like a girl..." Puck wiped tears from his eyes. "Uh, Finn, you alright bro?" Puck launched over a pile of boxes and landed silently next to his friend. "Who's this?" he asked lifting a school picture of the boy that had a large '3rd grade' written across the bottom.

"I don't know." Without consulting one another, they began separating the things that obviously fell out of a different box and put the photos, videotapes, and envelopes into another that they could carry downstairs. Burt and Carol were both at work still, so they wouldn't have to worry about them showing up for a few more hours.

As Finn set the box on the table, he started dumping everything out. Most of what filled the box was photos. School pictures, baby photos, and a few that looked like dance photos. The little boy smiled in most of them, but even when he didn't, he looked happy.

"You don't think Burt's some kind of pedophile, do you?" Puck asked.

"No, but did you see a VHS player up there anywhere?" It didn't take long to find about five tape players and grab the one that looked in its best condition.

"If this is something gross or creepy-" Puck started, but was silenced by a pillow to the face.

On screen, the blurry faces of two boys came into focus wearing all black, long sleeve leotards. The boy on the right was the boy in the pictures.

"Kurt, are you nervous?" Burt's unmistakable voice asked from behind the camera. The boy looked like he was thinking very hard before he answered.

"No!"

"Why not?"

"'Cuz we're gonna be... Fantastic!" although it came out more like 'fanastic.'

"Okay, good luck." The camera cut to an auditorium and focused back on the boy, Kurt. For over an hour Puck and Finn watched the home videos and met Kurt Hummel as a baby, his first steps, random birthdays, and unimportant moments.

"Hey Finn, check this out," Puck muttered from the table. He handed Finn an opened envelope and an article cut from a newspaper.

_**Second page, second line. Continued from the front. Tragedy: another missing child. Authorities confused.**_

Headline: Local Mother kidnaps son from Father. Finn sat and read the story about Elizabeth Hummel just up and taking her 7-year-old son away from his father.

"If he was seven here, he's about our age..." Finn muttered.

"He'll be seventeen in a few months." Puck and Finn jerked back at the new voice. Burt was leaning against the doorframe, eyes glued to the home video on the screen. 5-year-old Kurt was doing cartwheels around his mother.

"I ought to get home. See you at school." Puck made a run for it, grabbing his backpack off the counter. Though nobody was talking, the undertone of Kurt singing on the television kept the room from an awkward silence.

_**Without a clue, without a trace, of a smile and face I remember on a cold day in December. White T-shirt, blue jeans, and a jacket. Have you seen her?**_

"Does Mom know?" Finn asked, the first question he thought of that might keep Burt from being angry with him.

"She knows, but not about all this stuff," Burt sighed. He picked up picture and Finn swore he saw tears in his eyes.

"If you're not looking for him..." Finn didn't want to finish that. To Finn, Burt didn't seem like the type that would stop looking if there was a chance Kurt could be alive.

"They found his mother, dead, in a shack. She'd kept him and she locked inside. They think she locked him under the floorboards for God knows how long. She'd been so sick... That's why she left. The day she left I was going to take her to a hospital, but when I got home, they were gone. When they found her dead, they didn't think a seven-year-old would last long after, especially in the condition he was in. He's probably somewhere in foster care. They say he might not even remember me." Burt sat down next to his stepson, face burrowed in his hands, and cried. Finn put a hand on his shoulder and tried to comfort him.

"Burt, I know I've never even met him, but if it's that kid," he pointed to the TV where a 7-year-old Kurt had his arms wrapped around his fathers neck lovingly, "there's no way he could forget you."

_**And it's too much to see; I'm too distraught to sleep, so tonight I'm down on my knees. Oh Lord, listen to me when I pray for the missing children, and that no one hurts them, and that you will find a way to bring them home. To their loving daddy's arms, and their momma's hearts won't have to break anymore. Oh, I pray for the children.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Next chapter, Kurt. ;) <strong>_


	2. Well, Baby, you sure are far from home

**So here's Chapter Two... Yea, it's kind of a big deal. *Monotonous laughter***

**Enjoy, my little monsters.**

* * *

><p>Kurt Hummel was an unhappy person.<p>

Not all the time, but at this moment if you saw him, with him teeth rolling over his bottom lip, eyes squinting, arms over his chest, you'd know that Kurt was not his usual peppy self. The sixteen-year-old was glaring at the empty tip jar on the counter, and if you've ever been working the night shift at Marco's Coffee (which brought more traffic than the morning all day combined, go figure) than you too would be unhappy with the contents (or lack thereof) of the little jar.

"I don't get it. People these days are just so ungrateful!" Kurt huffed.

"Not so much ungrateful, just too busy with their own lives too worry about what the pretty little face behind the counter wants to buy for himself. Whatcha savin' up for anyway, Kurty?" Nelly, a bone skinny and unusually pretty black woman with her hair pulled unto a tight bun asked as she wiped the counter top. She was much older than Kurt and had been working at the shop before Kurt could crawl, which she never let him forget, especially when he started getting cocky.

"You really want to know?" Kurt asked, not turning away from the sad jar, but raising one eyebrow.

"Well you've worked here a couple weeks now and I still don't know nothin' about you or what trouble you think you can dig yourself out of with that tip jar." She pointed at it for emphasis and Kurt smiled, finally turning away.

"Alright then," he smiled and leaned on the counter. "I'm saving for a plane ticket home." Nelly raised an eyebrow and pushed a few drawers closed with her sneakers.

"And where's home?"

"Lima, Ohio."

"Well, Baby, you sure are far from home, aren't you then?" She looked Kurt in the eyes, but decided not to pry for any more information. He looked tired enough. "How much you got saved up anyway?"

"Well right now I've got about 80 dollars, I thought I'd save up like, I don't know, 100 and something and then just go to the airport. I don't know the first thing about traveling," Kurt sighed.

"Well what are you doing in New York anyways? And where's your folks?"

These kind of questions made Kurt wince. He didn't want to have to explain himself or his situation, he just wanted to get home with nobody being the wiser.

"It's a really long, boring story. Nothing you need to worry yourself with, oh wonderful caffeine goddess."

"Alright, fine. You'll tell me when you're ready. Be here at 4:30 for the rush, alright, Kurty?"

Kurt smirked and hung up the brown apron he loathed. That left him in his simple black sneakers, stolen black jeans, stolen white shirt, stolen cardigan, okay so everything he was wearing he'd "picked up", but hey, when you've got more important things to save up for and living on the streets, you can still look good, right? Well I hadn't really gotten to that last part, but that's what was on Kurt's mind after he walked out of the warm shop into the cold dawn. The sun was barely making it's appearance for the day, colorful rays blowing trumpets for everyone to notice it's arrival.

He tried rubbing heat into his arms, but it really didn't help any. He needed to find a warm, preferably clean, place to sleep. 'Train stations? No, got chased off last night. They'll call the cops if they catch me there again so soon.'

Kurt was so involved in his thoughts he wasn't watching where he was walking, much less the people around him. The man behind him smiled through filthy, discolored, jagged teeth, his grimy hands reaching out of the warm pockets of his trench coat. "Hey, Pretty Boy." Kurt didn't even react, so use to the noise of the city and too deep in his thoughts. "I'm talking to you," the man growled, still smiling. Nothing. Finally becoming impatient, the stranger grabbed one strap of Kurt's backpack, tearing it from his left shoulder.

"Hey!" Kurt yelled, trying to keep the other side of his bag. Not expecting a fight (and not good at fighting anyway) Kurt didn't brace himself for the fist that grabbed his jaw and shoved him backwards, his hands momentarily forgetting the bag and hellbent on grabbing something to keep himself upright. He ended up struggling to blink open his eyes as he lay on the cold, dry cement.

"My bag..." he muttered and started panicking, searching the ground as if a blind man looking for his glasses. "Everything I own is in that bag!" Kurt sniffled and couldn't stop the tears that were forming in his eyes, ready to fall and make his face colder than it already was. "Okay, my clothes, I can get more." The panic in his chest started to subside as he slowly got to his feet. "Tooth brushes aren't that hard to come by. My work stuff, Nelly will understand and get me anything I need." He sighed in relief. "Money's in my wallet, so jokes on you, you rude, good for nothing, pathetic, barbaric..." Kurt trailed off and stopped in his tracks as he reached for his wallet in his pocket. But he'd just got off work and changed pants. His wallet was in his pocket, just not the pocket he had now. The pocket safe and sound, in his bag. The bag the crook just grabbed. "You idiot!" Kurt yowled and slammed his head against a brick wall. The tears came back full force and he couldn't stand up anymore. Crying on the sidewalk, shaking from both sobs and the cold, Kurt hugged himself and wished he was home so badly, but knew he'd just been dropped back to square one. Do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars, which he knew would be more than enough money to take him home and back to his dad. He knew he was in trouble. Too much trouble to dig himself out of with a tip jar.

Yes, Kurt Hummel was a very unhappy person.

* * *

><p><strong>Poor Kurty. <strong>

**Reviews are like... fire wood to my old metal furnace...? nah.**

** Power for my iphone? too new, hip, cool and 'with it.' **

** Cookies to my dinner.**

** Just be nice and review. X( **


	3. That little guy? Damn

**So I'm going to try my hardest to update either every day, or every other day. At least once a week, but i'll shoot for every day. Or every other day... oh well, you get the point.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Second page, two pictures over. My favorite family photo album. Another Kodak moment captured on film of a two year old and his favorite cookie cutter.<strong>_

Finn spent the whole night hearing Burt's stories about Kurt, how Burt still thinks his little boy could still be out there somewhere, having survived by some miracle. And if he had, Burt was sure he'd still be singing and dancing. "He'd definitely be in that glee club of yours," he'd sighed.

When he fell asleep, Finn dreamt he was standing in a dark shack, the only light to show him around was from the broken roof. It came in patches and showed the dust floating in the air.

"Kurt?" he asked. A loud thump made him turn around to the corner that had been against his back. His face was inches from the rotting wood of the corner and he could hear his heart beating and every breath he took shook his whole body. A whimper made his eyes wander lower and he was met with a hole in the floor, barely a couple of inches in diameter.

Dropping to his hands and knees brought dirt and dust flying into his lungs and nostrils, but he didn't cough. He stared past the broken floorboards, into the lower darkness.

"Hello?" He whispered. A hand shot out so fast, he fell backwards onto his butt. Pale and dirty, the hand reached up the wall, felt the floor, tried to scratch it's way up, out, anywhere.

Finn stared at the hand, too scared to move or breath. When he did get ahold of himself, he dashed forward, full intent on grabbing it and yanking whatever was on the other end up through the floor. Though he never felt it, he saw the smaller hand slip out of his own.

Once again, he was too stunned to move until a long whimper made him dash around again, slamming his back against the wall with a loud crash, like the thin, old wall might not hold. Curled into the fetal position, crying in long sobs was a little boy with dirty hair. He lifted his red eyes and Finn just wanted to help him.

"I'm going to get you out of here, okay?" he whispered. Now Kurt didn't even move. His eyes just stared.

Finn almost felt like when he woke up, he was falling. He was breathing in long gasps just like little Kurt in his nightmare.

Before he left for school that morning, he grabbed a couple of the pictures. He didn't know why, but just knowing he might have a brother (step brother, but it's whatever) made him feel different.

_**Ten years ago that was my little brother and there's no other like him so have you seen him tell me please 'cuz I've been searching endlessly and I'm so close to loosing hope.**_

"She locked him under the floorboards in a shack," Finn told Puck the second he saw him in the hall.

"The mom?" Finn nodded. "That little guy? Damn..." Puck ran a hand over his moe hawk.

"She's dead now. I don't know how he got out, but no one knows where he went after that." The two walked together to their first class. "That sounds like I'm talking about a movie. That doesn't sound real. This doesn't happen in real life," Finn muttered, sounding tired and defeated as he slumped into his desk. Puck gave a slightly sympathetic eye before sitting down too. By the time Glee came around, the whole club knew something was up and Puck, a bit uncharacteristically, hadn't uttered a word.

_**But I still pray for the missing children, and that no one hurts them, and that God will find a way to bring them home.**_

"Rough night?" Mr. Schue asked as he walked in the classroom. Finn only nodded and thought, after a night of barely any rest and half a day of school, 'rough night' pretty much summed it up.

"Mr. Schuester, do you know of any missing kids from Lima?" Finn asked, catching the attention of the whole room. Will shifted in his chair.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, have you ever known a kid from here in town and they went missing or something happened to them?" Will furrowed his eyebrows and looked to the side a bit. By now everyone had shifted their ears to the front of the room where Finn stood. "A Kurt Hummel maybe?" Will almost didn't catch it because Finn had said it so quietly.

"Wait, Hummel like your step-daddy?" Mercedes asked. Finn nodded, but kept his eyes fixed on the teacher's surprised expression.

"The story wasn't exactly all over the news, but I do remember the little epidemic, and you still hear repercussions every once in a while if you talk to certain people." Will ran his hands over his face when he realized all his students weren't finished with him talking. "I never met Kurt, but I remember what people were saying all over town."

"So what, did he get kidnapped, run away, just disappear, what happened?" Artie asked. Will looked at Finn, asking permission with his eyes.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, I'm only going by what I read in the papers and heard people gossip about. People said Mrs. Hummel just up and left with her little boy. She didn't tell anyone. They tracked the pair to a little hotel near New York where the mom killed herself and the boy." Will ended the story and closed his desk drawers, already wanting to get off the topic.

"Why would she do that?" Santana asked. "Was she totally mental?"

"No, it sounds like she was crazy," Brittany whimpered.

"That really happen?" Mercedes asked.

"Uh, close but not quite right. It's not as bad as that," Finn sighed. Not that bad, but not much better. "She didn't kill him. And it wasn't a hotel, it was a shack but whatever. The point is, she didn't kill him, he got away after she died. He wandered off and could still be alive somewhere," Finn started talking faster.

"Well that's good. It's sad and kinda creepy, but better," Mercedes said, crossing her arms.

"What're you getting at, man?" Puck asked.

"I don't know," Finn said, rubbing his arm nervously. "I guess I just thought... I don't know."

"How old would he be now?" Artie asked.

"Sixteen." Will put in.

"Then he probably has some access to the computer or something, milk carton whatever. If he wanted to come home, all he'd have to do is tell the police he was a missing child. Free ride," Artie said.

"So he hasn't talked to the cops, he's either in trouble with them," Puck said.

"Or dead," Finn finished, sinking down in his chair.

_**To their loving daddy's arms, and their momma's hearts won't have to break anymore. Oh, if we just learned to get together and love one another, won't the pain simply go away?**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Next up is again, Kurt. ^_^ <strong>_


	4. Since when do we sell peas with coffee?

**Come on guys, I got like, maybe 2 reviews for the last chapter. :( You're gonna make me think you guys don't like it. **

**Pity Party: Over. **

**Read on, Readon-ers. **

* * *

><p>"Hey kid, get up." Kurt heard his father trying to wake him. The deep voice was unmistakable, but he didn't want to get up so he pretended to still be asleep. "Oh come on kid, don't be dead, don't be dead," his father ordered him. Kurt wanted to laugh right there in his bed and tell his father he was being silly, he wasn't dead.<p>

"There, he isn't dead, but he's got a pretty nasty bump and bruise. See, his eyes are trying to open." Kurt didn't recognize the second voice of a woman, and it definitely wasn't his mother. That voice is even more distinguished than his fathers.

He tried to mutter an 'I'm awake' to his father, but it only came out as a groan.

"Woah, slow down there, kid." Kurt finally peeled his eyelids apart and saw it wasn't his father kneeling beside him, but a stranger with a Santa Claus beard.

"Wha' time isi'" Kurt droned.

"5:30," Santa answered, looking worried. Kurt pulled his hands up to rub the sleep from his groggy eyes. 'Got off work at 2-ish, so I've only been out a couple hours, that's good,' he thought. "Look, do I need to call you an ambulance? How long you been out? You need some dinner?" the woman standing asked.

"No I'm good. Wait, dinner?" Kurt asked, sitting up immediately, adrenalin quickly masking all pain or sleepiness.

"Ya, 5:30 pm, I'm calling 911," she sighed.

"Aw no!" Kurt groaned and bounced to his feet. "I have to get to work." Kurt put a hand on the mans shoulder and said, "thanks Santa Claus, you're a big help and a joy to children everywhere," before dashing down the street as fast as he could.

About halfway down the block, he realized he'd still have to explain what happened to his work uniform, and for that matter, his face. Slowing his run, he found the glass window of a store that was reflective enough to see himself. His hair stuck up in all directions, his bangs hung down over his eyebrows which he despised. His jaw and cheek weren't swollen that he could tell, but they definitely weren't the right shade of sepia that the mirror window provided. After trying to brush his hair back with his fingers, it still decided to rebel against Kurt's demands. Tired, sore, mood crushed, and defeated, Kurt stuck his hands in his pockets and started his slow walk to the coffee shop.

"Already late, looking like this, Nelly's definitely going to fire me now," Kurt muttered to himself as he walked through the crowds of people on the sidewalk. "Five, seriously? How many of you people walked by me this morning?" he asked the crowd, picking random people to look at as they passed, completely unaware he was addressing them. 'Kurt, shut up with the pity party,' he told himself. 'Nobody cares about you and your petty problems when they have a baby of their own,' he thought as he passed a woman trying to comfort a crying toddler. 'Or are busy fighting the country's war,' he passed a man dressed in camo and combat boots. 'You don't get to be worried about, so stop acting like you have some right. You're fine on your own. You'll get home and then if Dad still wants you...' well he hadn't thought about that, and didn't really want to. His father hadn't cone looking for him, so he must've not wanted him, right? No, his father wanted him, but there's a lot of people in the world, it must be hard to find one little boy among millions. It wasn't his fathers responsibility, it was his. He'd find his way home, just like he'd found his way to New York from Pennsylvania. He would get home and everything would be perfect. Too lost in his mind, creating movie scenes for his homecoming, muscle memory ended up walking him to the shop and pushing the door open, ringing the bells that hung from the interior handle.

"Boy, you better have a damn good reason for showing up over an hour late when-" Nelly's voice snapped him out, but stopped as soon as he spotted her behind the counter. For a moment, he felt more eyes on him than he'd ever had, or felt he needed, and it made him shift in discomfort. Not only was Nelly looking at him, but the only two customers in the little shop also stopped their conversation at the sad sight of a teen. Kurt did his best to avoid the stares.

"Oh no," Nelly muttered and grabbed a rag before dashing out the swinging doors of the counter and running at him. Lifting his chin to examine his face, she winced as if feeling the pain for herself.

Kurt didn't mean to hurt her. Feeling even worse than before, he tried to turn and leave, but Nelly caught his arm. Next thing he knew, the tears he'd shed the night before were back and with a vengeance. It took every ounce of self control he could grab up to keep himself from looking like a babbling child in front of her.

"Hush, it's alright, Baby. I gotcha." She let him get ahold of himself for the most part before sitting him down at a table near the counter. He didn't say anything, not trusting his voice not to crack or push his emotions over the edge. "Go to the bathroom. Get yourself cleaned up a little. I'll get you an ice pack, then you come out here and tell me what happened." Kurt nodded and trampled past the two strangers, trying to shield his face. Looking at his face in a real mirror made him feel almost sick. Not just the large bruise that covered his whole left jaw and redness that claimed his cheek, but the red of his eyes from crying, his hair in terror, squished up face, he just didn't like it at all.

"Don't want to keep Nelly waiting," Kurt sighed and started his speedy recovery. In only a couple of minutes, his now damp hair was in a presentable state and he got a smile to stay on his face.

But outside, there was Nelly, leaning on the counter, chatting with the remaining costumer with a pack of peas in her hand.

"Since when do we sell peas with coffee?" Kurt asked with a forced smirk.

"Since I found them on sale 2 for 3 dollars," Nelly said straight-faced and tossed the frozen pack to Kurt.

"It's cold," he complained when it touched his cheek.

"I think that's kind of the point." Kurt turned around to see the stranger standing by the door.

"Well I don't like it," Kurt answered cockily.

"What happened?" Nelly asked, quickly bored with Kurt's procrastinating. The bells on the door rang as the last customer left.

"It's really not that big of a deal. I mean, nothing I want to bother you with, Nelly-"

"Uh-huh, look Kurty, the only thing bothering me is the thought that someone would do that to you. Is it your parents? Kurt, you gatta let me do something-"

"No, my parents didn't," Kurt said, starting to panic. He hoped Nelly wouldn't ask about his parents. He had to keep her attention away from that conversation. "I got mugged. He took everything I have. All my money, my clothes, everything."

"Right, your plane ticket money. But what do you mean your clothes, all your stuff. Don't you have stuff at your house and clothes at..." Nelly trailed off as it finally hit her. Kurt realized he'd slipped up and slapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide. "You mean to tell me you don't have a house? Kurt, you even got parents?"

"Oh my gosh, I'm-so-so-sorry-Nelly-I-didn't-mean-to-say-anything! Please don't tell the cops or CPS or anything!" Kurt stood up and held his hands out, already preparing himself to run. Nelly looked furious, but clamped her jaw shut as she rolled her epiphany around in her mind. "Please, I just need the money he stole back, then I'm going back home. Don't be angry," Kurt pleaded.

"Boy, I ain't angry. Well, a little that you never told me, but I'm mostly shocked. Living on your own? In New York? It's real dangerous, but I guess you know that already." He sank into a chair and, forgetting about a good hair day, grabber a hold of his hair, hiding his face. "Hey, Kurt, please let me help you." Nelly knelt beside the boy. Suddenly Kurt felt surrounded, cornered. Panic was rising up in his chest. He needed to run, and Nelly knew it.

"Wait. I'm not going to stop you, but I ain't lettin' you just wander off by yourself. You know how to get to an airport from here?" Kurt swallowed anxiosly and nodded. Nelly put her hand on her hips and sighed. Kurt could see that she was thinking very hard about something. Turning on her heel, she walked behind the cash register and took out all the cash from the drawers. "It's not a whole lot, but it'll get you on a plane." Kurt couldn't even answer. His mind was in a frenzy. 'You can't take the shops money. Nelly will get in trouble for this. You don't deserve all of that. You don't need charity.'

"No, I can't," Kurt stuttered. Kurt flinched when she put her hand over his mouth and grabbed his hand, put the rolled cash in his hand and closed his fingers around it.

"Kurt, I won't be able to live with myself if I just let you go now. All I'm asking for is that you give me a call when you finally get back to Limewire, Idaho," she smiled.

"Lima, Ohio, you're close enough. Thank you."

* * *

><p><strong>Well, that's all I have pre-written, so the rest of the chapters may not come as fast. <strong>

**Fingers crossed...**


	5. I'm Donald Trump's call boy

**This was by FAR my favorite chapter to write. ^_^**

* * *

><p>'<em>I'm stupid. Mentally insane? No, maybe I'm actually retarded and nobody told me<em>,' Kurt thought in a panic. He was sitting (more like slumped down in his seat) in an airplane, surrounded by empty seats and the flight attendant kept peeking out from behind the curtain several rows ahead as if he couldn't see her. He ducked behind the seat in front of him and peeked out from the side, but the woman wasn't there anymore. "Well you're no fun," the boy muttered and sat back up. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back and rubbed his hands over his eyes.

Kurt was too excited and nervous to sit still. To keep from dancing right there, he shoved the urge down to his feet until his worn shoes tapped to no particular beat against the seats legs. Next, his fingers drummed against the armrests. '_Home. I'm going to go straight home and find my dad. Ohmygoshi'mgoingtoseemydaddy…' _Kurt only squeaked.

After a while, people started meandering down the single isle, giving Kurt a glance before looking back to check the seat numbers. Tired of watching people, Kurt stared at his feet, still tapping to an invisible beat.

"Hey, you mind?" Kurt looked up and saw a man stylishly dressed standing in the isle, blocking the way. A very annoyed looking woman dropped her bag to the floor behind him.

"Um, can I help you?" Kurt asked. The man shoved his ticket in the boys face, pointing at the seat letter.

"Row 21, seat E. That's right there," the man pointed at the empty seat to Kurt's right. His New York accent was something Kurt was use to, but it made came across incredibly rude, something Kurt didn't appreciate.

"Sure thing," he said and instead of standing up, he pulled his legs up under him. The stranger and the annoyed woman (now tapping her foot) gave him strange looks, but the next couple of people in line just laughed.

Several minutes later, everyone was settling in and the man kept glancing at Kurt's feet. "You're not gonna play happy feet the whole time, are you?" Kurt felt his cheeks get hot, but didn't say anything, just set his feet down. This was going to be a long flight, for more than one reason. "So, unaccompanied minor?" Kurt looked up from the page on SkyMall with a pair of boots that he thought would look good on his own feet.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"You got let on way before any of the rest of us and you had an escort," the stranger said, pleased with himself.

"Oh, that wasn't because I'm a minor. Well, it might have been a little, but it's mostly because I didn't have my I.D.," Kurt said, deciding he'd bring this magazine home with him and maybe find these boots somewhere.

"They still let you on?"

"I'm sixteen and headed to Ohio, not a terrorist headed to the White House." '_And I'm strangely adorable when I need to be.'_

"Then what are you doing by yourself in New York?"

"I'm Donald Trump's call boy," Kurt smirked sarcastically. The stranger belted out a laugh and clapped his hands a couple of times, drawing attention to himself from the couple to the left of Kurt.

"Trump got good taste and I knew my gaydar was never wrong," the man smiled. "I'm Mark, by the way."

"Kurt. Charmed," he sighed, rolling his eyes. Maybe if he pretended to be asleep, this would go faster.

When they brought out the food cart, Kurt was on cloud nine. One apple juice and two turkey sandwiches later, he was back to dancing in his seat.

"Um, excuse me," he asked, calling over one of the flight attendants. "How much longer until we land?"

"Hun, we're barely now just leaving New York. Just sit tight, watch the movie, whatever," the woman replied impatiently and stalked off.

"Fine. Be that way, you and your cheap nock-off heels."

Sitting still was hard. Sleep was impossible. Kurt got up about three times to go to the bathroom where he'd wash his hands twice and stare at himself in the mirror for much longer than necessary. He was walking down the isle, grabbing each seat as he passed, when the seatbelt light came on and the pilot announced the landing. Kurt's hands were shaking so badly, it took a couple of tries to buckle is seatbelt.

Before the doors even opened, Kurt was up and running toward the front. He had no bags, so he didn't have to get anything from the compartment or the luggage carousel.

"Okay, step one: find a map." Kurt found a couple tourist pamphlets that had maps on them (whoever would vacation in Ohio was beyond him.) Lima was only a couple of towns away, but it would be about an hour and a half drive. "Bus schedule, bus schedule…"

It was 3:30 now, he was sure his father got off at 5 like everyone else. He still remembered his address and the way the house looked the day his mother packed him up and put him in the car.

On the bus, he thought of sitting on his front porch steps, having his father pull up in his new Chevy, jump out when he saw him, running up to meet him, the long embrace. Then he thought more horror movie and thought about going inside and sitting down in the dark so that when his father walked in, it would be a surprise. Or maybe his father would already be home, sitting at the table by himself, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper.

He lifted his head to look out the bus window. "Is that?" he started recognizing buildings, then random roads and even houses.

More flashes of his mind-made hallmark movies flashed before his eyes and he couldn't keep a goofy smile from his face.

"Lima," the old driver muttered. Kurt and two other people got off and Kurt looked around, trying to get his bearings.

"Excuse me, what time is it?" Kurt asked one of the strangers from the bus.

"Five-fifteen," she answered.

Kurt had to yell his thanks over his shoulder because he was already running. He could feel his heart beating erratically and he couldn't keep his breathing steady either. '_My daddy. He's going to be waiting for me!' _Suddenly, Kurt wasn't sitting on the steps to surprise his father, Burt was standing in the doorway, arms open like he just knew.

When Kurt caught sight of his street sign, his legs burst with energy and he could hear the sweet piano and violin music he knew should be playing. First the street sign, then his house. He literally laughed out loud at the sight.

Closer up, he slowed his run, and stopped on the sidewalk. It looked the same as he remembered, minus the perfectly trimmed lawn and the fresh, white paint. And there was his father's truck, new when he'd gotten it, it was now a little worse for wear. What puzzled Kurt to his stop was the one car and one other truck parked in the driveway.

"Maybe he has company," Kurt muttered. But when the front door opened, panic flooded toward him. He ducked out of the way and hid behind the bushes.

"Finn, hurry up or we'll be late!"

"Dad!" Kurt whispered and stuck his head around the shrub. His smile slowly faded as the people before him went about their business.

"I'm hurrying!" the voice of a boy shouted from inside the house. Burt had keys in his hand as he made his way toward his truck.

"Burt, Honey, you forgot your hat." A woman with dark brown hair came out of the house and handed Burt the hat before grabbing his arm and pulling him down to give him a kiss. A teenage boy came out right then and acted like he was puking in the bushes.

"You really don't have to do that in front of me, but thank you," Finn said sarcastically. Even after the truck pulled out of the driveway and the woman was back inside, Kurt found he wasn't breathing. "He replaced us," he sighed, tears spilling over his otherwise emotionless face. "He replaced _me_."

* * *

><p><strong>Aw... ;_;<strong>


	6. What's your problem, kid?

**I'm not going to lie, my mojo was definitely AWOL in this chapter. The brain juices just refused to flow. :/**

**But I was in class and thought "Wow, I really need to update my fiction thingy." And out of the rubbish, this chapter emerged, victorious!... barely.**

* * *

><p>Kurt sat with his legs tucked under him, staring after his fathers truck until he couldn't feel his feet. Even after that, he pulled his knees up to his chest and waited for the painful tingling in his feet and heart to stop.<p>

Kurt was smart and manipulative. He'd proven time and time again that he could think fast to get himself out of sticky situations. Usually he could come up with a lie or story on the tip of a hat without even blinking. That's what scared him most about what he was doing now. Every time he tried to think about this rationally, the gears in his brain just stopped. He couldn't move from the dirt or even think about what he'd just seen. He wasn't in a panic, he wasn't upset, he was just… tired.

He settled for staring in the general direction of the setting sun, not actually watching it at all.

Finally making a decision, Kurt stood up. Without giving his only home a glance, he put his hands in his pockets and started walking, already setting his mind that he wasn't going to stop.

* * *

><p>"Yeah, that was great! That last sac made my legs hurt just to see though," Finn laughed. Burt kept his eyes on the road, but the smile never left his face. Finn sighed happily and leaned back in his seat, enjoying the general atmosphere of the truck. The radio played something country, but it wasn't loud enough to make out the words.<p>

The sun had set some time ago and the only light was that of the radio numbers and when they passed a street lamp, light would flow in and out of the truck. Finn leaned against the door contently and stared out the window.

Catching his eye was a boy sitting on a bus stop bench. He was a skinny kid, as far as Finn could tell. There wasn't anything special about him, but Finn still watched him regardless.

Only seconds later a loud crash made Burt slam the breaks. Finn's head collided with the dashboard, glass shards from the back window flying forward.

"What the hell?" Burt yelled. Finn turned around and saw the guy from the bench now standing in the middle of the road in a stance that suggested he'd thrown whatever had shattered the back window.

Burt slammed his door behind him as he got out of the car. "What's your problem, kid?" Burt screamed at the shadowed figure. Finn undid his seat belt and turned in his seat to watch what his stepfather would do.

The stranger stood straight up, hair hanging over his face, turned tail and ran.

"Hey!" Finn yelled. "Get back here!"

"That's it. Call the cops, Finn." Burt once again slammed his door behind him, forgetting about a seat belt and started toward home again. Finn did as he was told with his hands shaking and heart dropping in his stomach. He hated when a pleasant day ended horribly.

* * *

><p>It didn't take long before Kurt got too tired to run anymore. He hadn't eaten since the plane ride and was emotionally exhausted. He'd gone from being foot-tapping excited, to totally blank, to angry, and now he couldn't stop the hot tears that raked down his cheeks unattractively.<p>

Usually he'd find a warm place to sleep, but Ohio wasn't as cold as New York was this time of the year and Kurt didn't know the area at all. With no clothes, nowhere to stay, and no plan, he found a nice looking wooden park bench and fell asleep in no time.

* * *

><p>There were flashes of a dark, dusty wooden prison. Kurt's head snapped up to find his mother kneeling above him, that same crazed look in her eye that Kurt had learned to fear. He flung himself to the dirt floor, backing away. After only blinking, her face was a bloody, deformed mess and Kurt didn't have enough air to scream. Both of her eyes were leaking both blood and more tears than he'd ever seen. Splinters were burrowed under her chin and her nose was gushing blood along with her heart beat, but the nose itself was broken flat onto her face, which she showed him by turning to the side then bashing her jaw into the wall four times until it hung off to one side.<p>

"Mommy stop it! Stop it please!" Kurt had tried to yell, but it had only come out as a whisper due to hoarseness and fear. Elizabeth, unable to make coherent words, let out a high pitch, throaty screach before falling on the hardwood above the little boy.

Now at an awkward angle, Kurt could only see his mothers bruised and broken arm from his dirt-bottomed basement. It took almost a whole day for her shaking to stop, but Kurt knew the second she was dead.

"Mommy?" he asked. When he wasn't given an answer, he crawled to his feet. He was barely tall enough to reach the ceiling of his basement, but he touched her cold and dirty fingers. He grabbed onto her hand reassuringly. "That's okay Mommy, it's okay now. Just help me up and everything will be okay." He said through his tears and wiped them away with his free hand.

Giving the hand an experimental tug, he reached up with both hands, grabbing his mother's wrist. He heard a crack and assumed the wood was too thin here, but decided to try anyways. He jumped and tried to grab the floorboard so he could haul himself up, but the small portion he grabbed only broke off and came down with him. Something else crashed into his side knocking him over. The dirt met his face with a cold taste. "Gross," he growled.

Turning to see what fell, he was paralyzed. Through the bit of light that shone in patches through the roof and floor, he saw his mothers arm, broken at the elbow, lying on the floor. He drug himself backwards on his hands and butt so fast that he slammed his back into the dirt wall. The impact knocked the breath out of him, and out of his dream.

Kurt tried to take in a breath, but was met with the dirt and inability to inhale again. Pushing himself to his knees, he wondered how he got on the ground. '_Won't spend to much time trying to figure that one out_.'

It didn't matter how many times he'd had the dream before, every time he woke up, he would wake up terrified. Kurt breathed in slowly and brushed the dirt off his shirt. Grabbing the bench, he hauled himself back to lay down.

He needed a plan. Without a goal, he felt sick, just like seeing his mother's severed hand. He shivered. But he couldn't map out a whole new life for himself. He'd have to go step by step for a while, that much he knew. Sitting up, he looked around.

The sun was just above the line of trees to his left and to his right was a strip mall. Kurt smiled as two women walked out of a store, both holding large bags and talking on their cell phones. "Well, step one of Plan Ohio: new clothes."

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah, but it's 11:30 and I still have homework. Goodnight everyone!<strong>

**Reviews are pretty cool... hint hint...**


	7. Lima freaking Ohio

**I'm SOOO sorry for the long wait. School is monopolizing my life. The only reason I got this up today was because I stayed home and said I was sick. Oh well. Here you go, guys. **

* * *

><p><em>Tap, tap, tap.<em>

Kurt looked at himself up and down in the full-length mirror. He couldn't decide between the black button down jacket or the light blue hoodie. He was more used to the designer store that crammed themselves on the streets of New York, but he was making due with the department stores. "Lima freaking Ohio, Kurt," he'd reminded himself.

_Tap, tap, tap. _

His foot knocked on the floor as if it might help him decide.

"Black's thinner and easier to sneak out of here," he muttered and hung the hoodie back up. Checking his recently stolen watch for the time, he decided he'd spent enough time in the one dressing room. Now all he had to do was put all the clothes on under the ones he'd come in and nobody would know the difference. Right now he was wearing four pairs of socks, three shirts, two pairs of skinny jeans and one pair of regular jeans over them, a Marc Jacobs scarf in one jacket pocket and a pack of underwear in the other.

"Stupid cheap clothes making me look fluffy," Kurt growled as he walked out.

"Did you find anything?" the friendly old woman behind the counter asked.

"No, everything was either too big or didn't fit my school's dress code." The excuse just pounced readily right off his tongue.

"Dress code? Oh, you must go to that Dalton Academy! My grandson used to go there. He's all grown up and in college now, but it's a fantastic school. Great dorms, that was Michael's favorite part, living at school I mean," the woman was still rambling when Kurt zoned out, but he tried to be polite. The gears in the teen's brain were already firing up. His excitement got ahold of him before his manners did and he interrupted the woman.

"Oh yes, actually. Dalton is where I _want_ to go. I'm going to tour it today, but I can't seem to remember how to get there from here. You wouldn't happen to have directions, would you?"

"Oh, of course. I'll go to the back and print something off for you, how does that sound?" She left before he could answer.

"It sounds like you want to feed me a poison apple," he muttered. Just about the time Kurt thought she might have forgotten about him, the woman came out with several papers in her hands.

"Alright sonny, here's how to get to Dalton from here. First, you need to get on the interstate and stay on that until-"

"Turn right on Cherry Street… THERE IS NO CHERRY STREET!" Kurt yowled and kicked the stoplight with his brand new boots (stolen). He'd been dragging around his large luggage (stolen) for the better part of the day and was now tired, grumpy, and a little bit hungry. Kurt huffed angrily and started stomping towards the nearest building, which looked like a coffee shop. The sign read 'The Lima Bean.' "I can't believe after all that I'm still in Lima. Coffee cake and snack food will have to do."

The bell rang on the door as he entered, reminding him of Marco's Coffee, therefore reminding him of Nelly, putting him in an even more terrible mood. All she'd ask was that he give her a call once he got home, but now he would never be able to do that. Such a small thing for everything she'd given him.

An idea struck the boy and his heart constricted at the thought. As much as it would hurt him, and he hated the thought of lying to the woman, he had a plan. As he drug his luggage up the counter, he didn't notice the three boys wearing red and blue uniforms sitting at a table.

"Excuse me ma'am," Kurt tried to get the attention of the woman behind the counter. "It's been a really rough day. You wouldn't happen to have a phone I could borrow?"

"Pay phones are on the walls beside the bathrooms." She didn't even look up from her coffee-making to answer him.

"Well, I would, but I-uh… I got mugged. The guy stole my wallet and I don't have any change. Couldn't I just borrow your cell phone really quickly to get a ride from my mother-"

"Look kid, company policy. Can't give you my phone," she answered, sounding annoyed. "Blaine, babe, here's your coffee." She set the cup on the counter and called over one of the uniformed boys.

"You're joking, right? I am not an idiot. There's no policy."

"If you don't have any money, please leave before I call the police."

"You want to call the cops on _me_? What did _I_ do?" Kurt scoffed and pushed his luggage behind him so the stranger could reach his coffee.

"Wait, did you say you got mugged?" the black haired boy asked. Kurt was slightly taken aback by the concerned look on his face. He'd never met him before, he was sure of it.

"Um… Yes. He took my wallet and I don't have any other money."

"Have you been walking all day? My friends and I saw you walking as we passed the strip mall. Here, you must be hungry. Lindy, grab one of those sandwiches, you like turkey, right?" Kurt couldn't say anything as free food was shoved in his hands and he was drug over to sit beside two other strangers in the same attire as Blaine.

"After you eat, you can use my cell to call someone to come and get you." Blaine smiled. He sat across from Kurt, and three pairs of eyes were set on Kurt. Kurt felt his face getting warm and knew a red blush must have been dominating his face. _Attractive, Kurt_, he thought.

"So what's your name?" one of the boys asked.

"Uh, Kurt. Kurt Hu-… Kurt Hanson. You did all of this for me without even knowing my name?"

"Well, you must've had a crazy day. I can't imagine getting mugged and having to walk home. I'm Blaine, by the way." Kurt suddenly wasn't hungry anymore. He'd been mugged several times. He'd had to walk to a new place almost every night. It had never been anything abnormal for him before. The only time it had ever even been a slight inconvenience was the last time before he left New York.

"Thank you…" Kurt said shakily. "Um, do you think I could see you're phone really quick?"

"Of course, sure." Blaine handed Kurt his iphone and Kurt nodded before standing and sneaking to the hall where the bathrooms were. Leaning against the pay phones, he typed in Nelly's home phone number and waited until her voicemail came on.

"Hey Nelly. Um, it's Kurt." His mind went blank on what to say; what to lie about. "I'm in Lima. I'm actually using a strangers phone right now, but I'll call you from mine once I get to it. Uh, everything's good. I found my dad. My old house looks the exact same as when I left. I just wanted to call so you wouldn't be too worried. Well, I guess that's it. Uh, bye." Kurt whipped his eyes and covered his face with his arms.

He hadn't lied, but he hadn't told the one person who cared about him the truth.

This was a minor setback. He'd gotten over worse, so this should be a piece of cake. Drying his eyes and whipping the phone on his sleeve, Kurt reentered the room with a new air of confidence. This was Kurt, the man with the plan, in action.

"Sorry about that. You guys wouldn't happen to know where Dalton Academy is, would you?" Kurt asked, handing the phone back to Blaine and opening the wrapper on his food.

"Yeah, that's where we go. See the uniforms?" The boy on the right answered.

"I was being sarcastic, but yes, I see them. Dalton is actually where I was headed today when I got mugged. I was supposed to be touring today and getting enrolled, but there were some obvious complications."

"Well that's great, you can just ride with us back to Dalton," the boy on the left suggested.

"Perfect. Thank you so much, you really don't know how much this means to me." That knew that was the only thing Kurt wouldn't be lying about to these boys.

* * *

><p><strong>Now, I need you guy's help. <strong>

**Do you want Kurt to tell Blaine about all this stuff that's going on (after they become friends and all)**

**or does Blaine need to find out when something drastic happens? (part of the storyline, can't tell you exactly yet, sorry)**

**Review and let me know ;)**


	8. We Need to Talk

This new Edit/Preview is wonky and i don't like it. X( Oh well. Anyways, sorry this took so long! I'm a terrible person I know. :( "Mr. Hanson, I really am incredibly sorry for this inconvenience, really I am." Kurt sighed and pulled at the loose screw in the armchair. Dalton Academy really was blowing his expectations out of the water, though he couldn't afford to show it. "I mean, it's my fault. I've been loosing things left and right for days now. But-but that's no excuse for loosing your paperwork! I know how hard your father must work to send you all the way from New Jersey just for a tour." Kurt's eyebrow raised but he said nothing as another stack of important looking papers flew by his head and fluttered to the hardwood in a tsunami of times new roman.

"You know Sir, I'm very tired. You can call me when you get that paperwork. Why don't you just assign me a dorm, and I'll get settled in." The principle's eyes shot wide with surprise and he grabbed Kurt's shoulders. It was slightly intimidating, if you would've asked Kurt.

"So you made your decision to stay with us?" Kurt nodded rigidly, trying to avoid breathing in the man's road-kill breath. "Oh thank you, thank you. I know how unprofessional it was for me to loose your paperwork, forget your father's call, our appointment, the mess my office is in-"

"You can stop apologizing any time," Kurt grimaced and brushed the man's hands away. "I think it's all wonderful and part of the Dalton… charm."

"Mr. Hanson, I can't thank you enough. There's only one thing…"

Kurt crossed his arms and looked at the desperate, balding, heavyset man in front of him with pity. "I'm listening."

"I can't have the parents know this kind of thing happens, so if you'd do me a solid, isn't that what you kids say now-a-days, and maybe not tell your dad? First semester of tuition is free. Whatever money your parents send you, you can keep for yourself, deal?"

When the man's hands were trembling the way they were and his comb-over looking so disheveled, how could Kurt say no?

"I suppose that'll have to do…" _Keep your cool. Keep your cool. Keep your cool. _

The office door closed behind Kurt.

"Hell yeah! Go Kurt! Go Kurt!" In the mists of his spinning and flailing of happiness, Kurt didn't notice the smiling Blaine leaning against the wall.

"What, no way you're already on the dean's list." Kurt stopped and held his 'Welcome to Dalton- Where your future grows!' packet close to his chest. Blaine's deep laugh echoed through the empty halls and Kurt's silent blush spread all over his cheeks.

"You… shouldn't sneak up on people like that." _Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_

"Hey, I've been here this whole time, thank you very much." Blaine stopped his laughing as quickly as he started it. "Let's see, where'd they put you?" He snatched Kurt's room key out of his hand, but for some reason, Kurt didn't mind. Friends did that sort of thing without asking. _Like you would know. You haven't had a friend since you were 7, Moron. "_You're just down the hall from me. I'll show you your room.

"Uh, thanks," Kurt muttered, but Blaine had already started dancing down the hall. _He's so happy about… everything…_ Kurt thought strangely_. _

Kurt smiled and took a step after the strange boy. One, then another and another. Daily life at Dalton flew by. More schoolwork than Kurt had ever seen was slammed down on his desk. Information was missing the fundamentals he should have learned in elementary. After only two days he found ways to cheat in half his classes. As much pressure as that relieved, there was still the other several classes to stress about.

Kurt found he liked having friends after all. Blaine was good at noticing when the younger boy was about to snap and would take him to get coffee, or even just leave the room to cool down. Instead of living every day in stride, Kurt's whole life turned into a block schedule.

Wake up late, skip breakfast, school, work through lunch, Blaine brings food, back to school, homework, study with Blaine, dinner, study, sleep. Days blurred together and Kurt let himself forget his father and his new family. There was no winning goal anymore, only staying at Distracting Dalton until they found him out and sent him back to where he came.

Where exactly would they send him? Where did he come from? It's not like they knew he'd been in New York and they couldn't know he actually belonged only a town away. _You don't _belong _anywhere, Kurt. _He told himself. _Nobody wants to have you around and there isn't anything you can do about it. Your own father found somebody to love instead of you. _

"I should've just stayed in New York with Nelly. I should've never come back. I should've known my father would just replace me…" Kurt stared at his refection in the mirror. Where it came from, he wasn't sure. Last he remembered he was in class... "At least Nelly had the decency to pretend she liked me."

_But you blew that one, didn't you? Besides, why burden her with your pathetic existence? _

"She didn't act burdened…" Kurt grumbled underneath his breath, looking away.

_She's more polite than the average person._

"I don't know so many people. Who am I to say what an average person is, huh? Who knows, I could be average." Both Kurt and Mirror Kurt looked at each other with tilted heads and confused eyes.

_You're squatting. Wasting time that should be spent extracting revenge. _

"I don't have to 'avenge' myself to my father!"

_Not that it would do any good anyways. Mr. Hanson._

"Hummel! I am a Hummel!"

_No, that's Burt. You don't deserve a last name. Or any name for that matter. Nobody needs to talk to you, address you, acknowledge you, diffuse you…_

"Diffuse me?" Kurt started backing away from the mirror. The reflection still looked confused and only shrugged.

"Mr. Hanson!" Kurt flew backwards and felt something wet hit his cheek. "Sleeping in class is most definitely NOT tolerated at Dalton Academy! See me after class, young man." Chemistry. Right. Kurt whipped the drool from his lip and avoided the few laughs and sympathetic glances people were giving him.

Blaine was sitting next to him taking notes like a diligent little schoolboy as though nothing had happened. "Jerk, why didn't you wake me up?" Kurt groaned.

"I was listening to you." Blaine didn't look up from his work. Kurt shifted in his seat uncomfortably and glanced around the room to see if he was getting any strange looks from people. How loud had he been talking? What all had he said? "Who's Nelly?"

"Uh, somebody I used to work for. What did I say?"

"Excuse me boys, something you'd like to share with the whole class?" The teacher looked annoyed and slapped her ruler on the desk.

"I was just saying it was strange that all the chemicals in that cabinet over there Argon," Kurt pointed towards the other side of the room innocently.

"I Zink nargles must've stolen them," Blaine nodded.

"That's precious. Mr. Anderson, you can stay after class too then. Now, if I could please get back to my lesson…"

Blaine ripped a strip of paper out of his notebook and handed it over to Kurt.

'We need to talk' was all he wrote. Blaine's face was serious again and Kurt sighed. "_Time to go…" _the little voice in his head laughed.


	9. Silly Lies

**Okay, I think I have it figured out for real this time. Rough chapter up ahead, I even teared up while writing it. Have at it.**

* * *

><p>"Over an hour of detention for smarting off," Blaine muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with both hands as he and Kurt exited the classroom.<p>

"And we still have two projects due next week. Do these teachers just enjoy watching students fail?" Kurt asked. "They probably have vials of our tears stored away somewhere. I bet they have contests of who can get a paper turned in with the most tearstains. One is probably all yellow and splotchy, framed and hanging in the teachers lounge."

"Kurt!"

"You're right Blaine. It's not a lounge. It's a gateway to Hell. How else would the demons be able to get to school on time with-"

"Kurt, cut it out!" Blaine laughed and jammed an elbow into his friend's bony bicep. "You're getting yourself worked up for no reason at all." Kurt smiled, but obeyed and kept his mouth shut. The comfortable silence that surrounded them on their way to the dorms was ruined when Blaine stopped in front of Kurt's door and said, "about that talk."

"Can't it wait until tomorrow? We still have stuff to work on and I'm exhausted-"

"Why are you panicking?" Kurt was surprised at how blunt Blaine was being. He wasn't angry, but his face said he wasn't going anywhere.

"I'm not panicking, I just want to go to bed, that's all. Why would I panic?"

"That's what I'm wondering, Kurt. I think we're close enough by now that you should know I care about you." Kurt tried to interrupt, but Blaine put his hands on his taller friend's shoulders. "Shut up, I'm not done. I can tell that's a bit of a foreign concept to you, people caring, but I do. I know you think that telling people about your problems is worthless, and maybe it is, but I want to know, okay?"

Kurt couldn't believe anything he was hearing. Voices in his head were arguing louder than Blaine's voice had been.

_Liar! He just wants to know a hot piece of gossip._

_Blaine doesn't gossip._

_What's so special about him that he'd care about _you?

_He does seem kind of special…_

_If your own parents can't love you, why would this stranger waste his time on you?_

_He wouldn't._

"Don't waste your time on me, Blaine. Whatever you think you're going to get out of this, just forget about it," Kurt stated, almost robotically and brushed the warm hands off of his shoulders. He reached for the doorknob, but gasped when he was again blocked and ran right into Blaine's fixed stance.

"Dammit Kurt, you're not a waste of time!" _You're a waste of oxygen._ "And I don't want anything out this but you." _Silly lies and… wait what? _

Kurt snorted a laugh as Blaine silenced the voice in his head. Who knew that someone's subconscious could be taken aback?

"Why are you laughing? Kurt, you're confusing me now. Should I be worried?"

"No. I don't think so," Kurt laughed, for real this time. "Come on, let's just get inside first, okay?" Blaine nodded and moved to open the door. He let Kurt in first before following him in and eagling onto the twin bed. Kurt took his place in the desk chair and faced his friend.

"What do you want to know? I don't think my boring life is going to interest you as much as you're making it out to." Kurt tried to deflect, but Blaine saw straight through it. Propping himself up on his elbow, he flipped through the many questions in his mind.

"Who is Nelly, really?"

"I told you in class. She owned the coffee shop I used to work at."

"I didn't know you worked at a coffee shop. See? You didn't tell me anything." A long pause followed as Kurt twiddled his thumbs guiltily. "That day at the Lima Bean, you didn't really get mugged did you?"

_Easy. "_No." _I can do this._

"What about your parents?" _Damn. _

'_I told you, they live far away and work a lot.' _"My dad doesn't know I'm here. And he doesn't care either, so it's not a big deal," Kurt shifted uncomfortably when he answered. He knew what was coming next.

_That's not what I told you to say, you idiot!_

"And your mother?" Silence. _Don't be stupid. 'She's a lovely woman who knits and likes long walks on the beach.'_

"She bludgeoned herself to death on a chair and wall and made me watch," Kurt said, voice shaking the whole time and cracking when he mentioned he had to watch. Or really, he listened more than anything.

_Bludgeoned? Really? Couldn't just go with suicide? You're screwing yourself over here and I don't want ANY PART OF IT. _

"It took a couple of days," Kurt added when Blaine didn't respond.

Instead of immediately comforting his friend, Blaine kept him talking and before they knew it, hours had passed. Kurt told Blaine about escaping the shack after his mother was finished, though left out the more gory details that haunted his dreams. He told him about his wandering around New York and string of part time jobs he'd had as he formulated his plan to come home and surprise his father. There was that fateful part where he got mugged and Nelly's shining moment in the story. Kurt even laughed when he recalled the man he'd sat next to on his flight to Ohio.

There were tears as he explained the day he'd been so excited that he'd sprinted what felt like miles only to see his father happy with his replacement family.

"I'm happy that he's happy," Kurt said, "but every time I think about it, my chest hurts so badly… Something inside of me just cracks open, implodes, but because it's inside me only I know about it. It's a catastrophe, but nobody else has to know what's going on because my skin is there to hide it. That's the way I like it, hidden."

"But that doesn't make it stop hurting, does it?" Blaine asked, his eyes having never left Kurt since the beginning of his story.

"No. No, it still hurts." Kurt let the tears spill over his eyes and held his chest as it cracked open to let out long, painful sobs.

* * *

><p><strong>Poor baby! It's almost over, I promise!<strong>


	10. Cue freak out

**It's really short and mostly dialogue, but it had to be done! **

**Thank you for your patience. With me. **

* * *

><p>"Mommy?" It's amazing how you can dream about a memory a thousand times, know what's happening, and still make the same mistake over and over. Kurt reached for the hand, just like every other time, but something was different. Something in the atmosphere was strange. The hand moved on it's own, reaching for Kurt's neck.<p>

Blaine's face appeared above the whole in the floor, his injuries mirroring those of what Kurt's mothers had been. When he spoke, bits of flesh and blood dropped down his chin. "That's okay Mommy, it's okay now. Just help me up and everything will be okay."

Kurt flew out of bed with a jolt and stood in his dorm room, angrily swiping tears from his face. The image of Blaine's dirty face kept popping up in his head. "Stop it, stop it, stop it." The words were shoved through his gnashed teeth.

Kurt struggled to the bathroom and turned on the light. When he caught his tired, red-faced reflection, he leaned against the counter and pointed at himself.

"You will not ruin this for yourself. No psyching yourself out on this, okay? Blaine's fine, you're fine, you have class in…" check the watch… "six hours. Five more hours of sleep and you'll be fine."

_Or five more hours of being strangled by Blaine. _

Kurt did a double take at the thought. 'No way I'm going to deprive myself of sleep because of a stupid dream. If I can sleep with the possibility of watching my mother dying, I can sleep with the possibility of seeing Blaine being…'

_Kinky?_

_ '_Bed. I'm going to bed. I'm going to sleep.'

_Well, I'm not. _

'Shower, I'm going to shower. THEN I'm going to sleep.'

Well, after Kurt's shower, there was Kurt's chemistry homework, and then Kurt's world history review. After that he got on YouTube for a while and couldn't give a valid excuse why.

There was a knock on the door a while after the sun had come up. Kurt checked the clock on his phone and saw a daunting 7:40. Kurt opened the door still in his pajamas.

"Dude, are you not almost ready to go?" Blaine reprimanded and pushed himself into the room. Kurt grumbled a few lame excuses as he got ready and Blaine shuffled his bag around awkwardly.

"Hey, Kurt, about all that stuff we talked about last night…"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I kind of over shared and dumped all that on you. It wasn't okay. I never do that I swear-"

"No, no, no, no, that's not what I meant! You're fine you didn't over share. You shared well you shared perfectly. You perfect shared. I know I sort of just left after you told me your whole life story, but I was thinking about it all night. I have an idea." Blaine rambled nervously as Kurt scrambled around the room trying to find miscellaneous articles of clothing. "Kurt, we've got time, can I just talk to you for a minute?"

"Yeah just let me find another sock. If you buy them in pairs, the other one has to be somewhere."

"That's… actually logical. Look, I know the prospect of seeing your dad again might scare you, but what if I went with you? This might just be one big misunderstanding with the new wife and kid. Whatever it is, I know for a fact he never meant to replace you or anything." Kurt stopped his sock search for a moment and didn't look up. When he moved again, he jerked and sped up.

"Did you study at all for that world history test tomorrow? I feel like I've read the U.S. and British constitutions like 400 times-"

"Kurt, stop."

"And I still can't tell you how they're alike or different."

"Kurt, don't ignore me."

"I mean, how can you blame me for not remembering second grade when we read this the first time. Did we read that in second grade? Not the second grade I remember," Kurt trailed off as he finished pulling on his shoes and straightening his tie to perfection. Blaine's determined face didn't change. "Blaine, having you there will just make the whole meeting more awkward than it would've been otherwise. Hey Dad, I've been gone for almost 10 years. Yes, I do in fact know how to operate a cell phone. Why didn't I call you? Oh, it's just my big ass pride mixed with my wild stupidity. Nothing to worry about in your new teenage son. You miss all the cute, formative, baseball tossing years and get handed back a psycho." Kurt ranted. A moment of silence. Cue freak out. "A _gay_ psycho! Oh god what if my dads a homophobe?!" Kurt's hands flew to pull on his hair.

"Okay, okay, calm down. Calm down, stop that!" Blaine dropped his bag and ran to try and unhand Kurt's poor hair.

"I'm not going Blaine! The moments passed and maybe this was all for the better anyway. I'm not going. I'm not going. I'm not going!"

_Geez! Repeating yourself, yanking on your hair like that, you're a danger to yourself. They're having your cell padded already. _

"Alright, we're not going. Nobody's going anywhere, just please stop doing that," Blaine pleaded. Blaine gently unscrewed his friend's fingers from his hair, but kept his hands on Kurt's just to be sure. "Kurt, do you trust me?"

"Yeah. Yes, obviously."

"I'm not going to let you pretend it doesn't hurt anymore because it's really stressing you out and it's not healthy. You're going to make yourself sick if you keep this up. I let it go for now, but at least think about it, okay?"

_Think about going back there and embarrassing yourself._

"Promise?" Blaine asked.

_Blaine, this is no time for a moment!_

"Promise."


	11. Get over it

**Sorry for taking so long, but here you go. And just a little precursor if you think Kurt is out of character, **

**hurting people hurt people. And Kurt is most definitely hurting. Thanks for your time. :)**

* * *

><p>"So Kurt Hanson, you want to be a Warbler?" the Asian one asked. Wes, I think.<p>

"Yes, your honors." I really should stop being a smart ass. It's my nerves I can't help it! Everyone in this room is sitting down, watching me be scrutinized by this Holy Mystical Douche Council. Even Blaine isn't helping me out. He's just leaning against the arm of a couch, smiling and looking incredibly cool. He's cool and my palms are sweating. Thanks, asshole.

"Ha, see, told you he was funny. He'd be a great asset to the team, plus he's got a great soprano," David rambled from behind he and Wes's last-supper style table. I remember David from that day in the Lima Bean when I'd first met Blaine. They must be friends. Why haven't I seen much of him since then?

_Blaine's not proud to be friends with the creepy new kid. I'd keep you hidden too._

"Well just because we're one man down from being able to compete doesn't just grant you the spot. You still have to earn it, funny or not." Wes wasn't intentionally being bluntly awful, but someone really should give him a lesson in sincerity. His deadpanned words slapped me right in my 'deer in the headlights' face. "What'll you be singing for us today?"

"Um, Black Bird by the Beatles," I say, trying to look humble and innocent.

As I sing the words I know by heart, I think about how my song choice really couldn't have been better.

Black bird singing in the dead of night,

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

_That's pretty pathetic, waiting your whole life to sing in front of a bunch of high school pricks that judge you._

_ That's not what it's about! My wings may be broken by absolutely everything life has thrown at me, but I'm not going to lie down and take-_

_ Stop your little self-importance speech right there and tell it to someone who cares._

That's it. I'm crazy.

"Wow, Kurt, that was actually very impressive," Wes complimented. David and Blaine were smiling like idiots.

"Well, what else did you expect? It's me," I laughed and several people behind me laughed too. I stifled down the voice in my head that tried to comment on my pomposity.

"We'll get back to you. Thank you."

I was sitting on my bed, leaning over chemistry equations when my door opened. "Hey Kurt, I-" I bounced off my bed and threw myself on my best Blaine.

"Did they pick me? What did they say after I left? Was there something they didn't like? Something they liked a lot?" I rambled excitedly and Blaine had to drop whatever was in his arms to hold me up.

"Woah, I didn't know you were so excited about it," he laughed and put me down. "They liked you, but you know I can't tell you if they picked-"

"Please?"

"They picked you!"

"YES!" I threw my arms around Blaine again and jumped up and down. He joined in and laughed. When he pulled back, I went to step away. Blaine had a different idea. He took a step forward and put his face right where mine had been a half second before, his eyes closed. He kept going and I was left in silence to stare wide-eyed at the closed eyes of my best friend, his face, no, his LIPS on mine.

_NOW he's done it!_

_ Shut up!_

"Blaine…" I don't know if you've ever talked while someone's kissed you, but it's a strange, slightly sticky experience. When Blaine's eyes opened, full of hurt and confusion, my heart skipped and grew a giant spike that stabbed my right lung with every thundering heartbeat.

"I'm… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I just thought… No, it wasn't…" Blaine stuttered, but didn't let me go.

"Not that I hadn't thought about it before, but I think I have a lot of things to deal with before I… well, you know. You're great and all Blaine, really, I like you a lot. I just have a lot of crap to sort out before I get more, you know?" I tried to explain. Not very well I don't think. My arms were still around Blaine and his around me, but his grip tightened and he wouldn't look me in the eye.

"More crap? Being me, I guess?"

"That's not what I meant. I'm fine on my own and I don't want to put all this on someone else too." Which is perfectly reasonable, yes?

"Well it's a little too late for that you know. You already told me everything and how can you expect me not to worry about it? Not to worry about you? Most people who've lived through what you have would be clinically insane!"

_Ha! You don't know the half of it, punk._

"I'm already in it and I just want to help you," he finishes and lifts his head to look at me, still holding me against him. My arms are against his chest, ready to push away at any moment.

_How dramatic. This one gets an Oscar. No joke, my little hands are just clapping away in here. _

"Kurt? Kurt you're not saying anything," Blaine whispers and finally pulls one hand off of my back to my face.

"I just…" What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? And there was nobody to ask but… wait.

_That's right, come crawling back to me. I got this._

I pushed against my only friend with every ounce of strength I had. His back slammed into the wall and went tumbling right to the ground.

"Geez Blaine! You don't even listen do you? I said I could do this on my own! I always have, I don't need you to help me reconnect with my dad or wave your magic wand and make me all better again! It's not going to work."

_Stop._

"You're the only one who knows about my life. You think that makes you special? You think it gives you any right to me?"

_His face, it's killing me STOP THIS!_

"It doesn't and you don't know anything about me or what's going to fix me. I don't need anything and even if I did it most definitely isn't you."

_Stop this now! This is cruel!_

_Shut it, Damaged Goods… Oh look, he's crying. _

And then at this golden moment in our relationship where deep in my heart all I wanted to do was apologize and beg his forgiveness, all my years of hurts and fears spoke for me.

"Get over it."


	12. Hummel

**First of all, so sorry for the wait. I don't even have an excuse.**

**Second, I pulled this up on my computer and the first line was Finn and Puck in the attic in chapter 1. It's going to be weird writing Finn now. **

**:( **

* * *

><p>"I don't know. It was like it wasn't Kurt. He wouldn't say anything for a while, but then there was this look in his eyes and then… it just wasn't him anymore." Blaine tried to juggle his thoughts and coffee as Wes, David and he sauntered towards their preferred table. Immediately after the ordeal in Kurt's dorm, Blaine had dashed out and called for a meeting at the Dalton coffee shop.<p>

"Blaine, are you sure you're okay? He didn't hurt you?" David asked, ignoring the latte he'd ordered simply out of habit.

"For the third time, I'm fine." Blaine sighed, exasperated that his friends were missing his point. "All he did was shove me away. It was the way he did it and how quickly he got mad that was scary. It was just so… not Kurt." Blaine sighed and brought his cup to his lips.

"Either way, nothing can excuse that kind of behavior," Wes remarked, staring across the room.

"Guys, I didn't call you here to judge him. I called you guys because…" Blaine ran a hand over his hair and held the back of his neck. "I don't know why I called you guys. It's not like it came out of nowhere… I really like him. I like him so much that I… I may have kissed him…" David almost did a spit take, but managed to cover his mouth. A few drops still ran down his chin and he whipped them away with the back of his hand.

"Blaine, you didn't tell us _that_!" Wes said, suddenly very interested.

"Jesus, what if he was like, sexually abused as a child and that set him off?" David gasped.

"I wouldn't make that kind of assumption, but there's something very wrong with a reaction like that. I mean, don't try and kiss me or anything Blaine, but if Kurt is gay-"

"Which we know he is."

"Then he'd be an absolute idiot not to kiss you back. Besides, he's been in love with you since the second he came to Dalton." Wes finished his rant by gracefully pulling his coffee to his lips, eyebrows raised.

"Oh my gosh guys, calm down he's- wait you think he likes me?" Blaine interrupted himself midsentence.

"Um, yes! You're the only person he'll hang out with. And I know like three guys who've hit on him that he either ignored or insulted afterwards," David informed Blaine with a nod towards a table not far from them.

"That's why he's not my favorite person. You're the only one he's really even civil to. He's actually kind of been a dick lately," said Wes.

"He's just been really stressed out lately guys. You'd like him if you ever hung out with him. But I don't think you're right. If he liked me, he wouldn't have pushed me away like I was some kind of leper." All the boys were silent for a while, Wes and David looking at each other for help on how to comfort their friend.

"I hate you," Kurt growled and let his head drop painfully on his desk. Pulling his arms up to cover his head, he couldn't stop the onslaught of tears that shoved their way out of his eyes, rolling quick and hot down his cheeks. He cried so hard his shoulders quaked and he had to hold his chest in place for fear of his lungs refusing to work.

"I hate you." He lifted his head and let it drop again, harder this time, his words struggling to push themselves out between sobs.

"I hate you so much." He pushed himself to stand and dropped himself back on his bed, already exhausted, and knowing he wouldn't sleep until he cried for quite a while longer. Instead of doing his nightly moisturizing routine, Kurt pulled his socks, pants and button up off, unable to care about anything at that moment.

When Kurt's alarm sang out Barbra Streisand, he barely budged. One hand emerged from underneath his face and slapped his phone, dragging it back to his head. He wasn't completely lying when he texted his teachers he was sick. It wasn't like the pounding behind his eyes would have let him get very far anyways. By the time the sun shone in through the window, he hated the world and buried his face underneath a pillow.

_I hope they DO find me out. I hope that fatass principle calls the cops and I can rot away in a jail cell for fraud. And theft. And lying to an airport. _

If it hadn't been so quiet, Kurt might not have heard the gentle knock on his door. "Kurt?" Blaine's voice asked from behind the door. "Can I come in? I know you're probably still mad at me, but I have your history and chem homework." Silence. "Please?"

Kurt rolled over and watched the branches outside his window sway back and forth. "Fine, come in." Kurt didn't look as Blaine slowly entered the room. He didn't help close the door or take the pile of books that threatened to topple when Blaine set them on the edge of a desk.

"The teachers said you were sick," Blaine asked, genuinely worried. He sighed and stepped over to the bed and steeled himself before sitting on the edge, next to Kurts leg. "Are you feeling any better? Is there anything I can get for you? Have you eaten anything?"

"No."

"No to which one? Not feeling any better or not eating?" Blaine laughed and gently punched Kurts side. The boy didn't budge.

"I'm sorry," Kurt finally said after a moment.

"Kurt, it's alright I-"

"No, it wasn't. I just don't always know how to deal with stuff and so I don't. I do, but I don't."

_I do. _

"Kurt, you're not a bad person! You're fantastic and hilarious and-"

And just as about Blaine was about to express his feelings for the second time, there were three pounding knocks on the door.

"Kurt Hummel, open up."

Blaine looked confused, eyeing the door and then a baffled Kurt. "Hummel?"

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews make me write faster... Just sayin'...<strong>


	13. Did he win something?

**I'm kind of on a roll guys ;)**

* * *

><p>"No, no, no!" Kurt hissed, hands covering his mouth.<p>

"Hummel?" Blaine asked, looking back at the door. "That's your real name, isn't it?"

"No, shit!" Kurt snapped and jumped off the bed, pulling on pants. "Answer the door. Tell them they've got the wrong room."

"What!? No! I can't lie, what if they're cops?" Blaine shot up off the bed and continued their hushed conversation while trailing Kurt around the room.

"All the more reason to distract them while I run!" Kurt was already throwing clothes in a backpack and checking out the window. Blaine grabbed for Kurt's arm, gentle at first but held fast with vigor when his friend struggled. "Blaine stop, I'm not ready to go to jail or go back to my dad wherever they send me! I can't go!"

Tears pooled in waves in Kurt's eyes. His whole body trembled in Blaine's grasp. "Please Blaine.. please?"

"Kurt Hummel?" the voice asked behind the door, reminding the pair of their shortage of time.

"Blaine…" Kurt stepped closer, closing the gap between them.

"Okay. Okay, okay, okay," Blaine stuttered and nodded. "Get under the bed or something." Kurt obeyed, and didn't question when Blaine started undressing.

"Yeah, yeah, hang on!" Blaine yelled and swung the door open. The two uniformed cops only looked slightly surprised to find a half naked teenager blocking their way.

"Um, Kurt Hummel?" one of the men asked.

"No, I'm Blaine. Blaine Anderson. Kurt _Hanson_ left a few minutes ago. I think. It might've been longer? Might've slept a little more than I think I did. I was kind of worn out, if you know what I mean," Blaine lied flawlessly, leaning against the doorframe unashamedly.

"Mr. Anderson!" The principle pushed his way between the cops, his hands on his hips. "Well now! I certainly hope you and Mr. uh… well whatever the boys real name is, weren't having any sort of sexual relation on my campus!"

Blush blossomed belligerently, battling Blaine's boldness.

"Uh, of course not, Sir. Um, why are you looking for Kurt, again? I just mean because Kurt's all little and harmless and you guys are cops and look pretty serious and… stuff," Blaine blanched and closed his arms in attempt to cover himself up a bit more.

_There's that fancy Dalton grammar at work!_

Kurt covered his mouth to quiet the voice in his head, his body flattened underneath the bed. He was torn between having a panic attack and laughing at the quick thinking of the half naked boy in the room.

"It's pretty complicated actually and we don't have a lot of time. Did Kurt say where he was going?" the cop asked, already tired of Blaine's little show. The cop who hadn't said anything actually seemed semi amused.

"Food. We needed food so that we could continue studying anato- I mean chemistry."

The Dean slapped his face and held up a finger. "That's more than enough, Mr. Anderson. Thank you."

"Where did your boyfriend go, Kid?" The happier cop of the two asked.

"Well, geez, don't ask me that. Why are you looking for him? Death in the family? Did he win something?" Blaine rubbed the back of his neck and tried to ignore the fact that he was sweating and chalked it up to his previous fake sexual endeavors.

"Yeah, sure, now tell us where he went before we go in your room and confiscate your phone, computer, and anything else we think might help us find him." Cranky cop had had enough, it seemed.

"Alright, alright, calm down man. Uh, oh man, he said he wanted tacos and he was going to borrow David's car, okay? There's a Taco Bell like ten minutes away. Just don't tell him I'm the one that told you! I'd still like to tap that every once in a while, if you're not hauling him away to prison," Blaine confessed, his hands up defensively. Kurt made a face we call '_what-the-hell'_?

"Great," cranky cop said and headed for the door.

"Thank you for your cooperation. Have a great rest of your night."

Blaine kept eye contact with the accusatory principle for a few seconds before trying to cover his junk.

"Goodnight, Sir," he tried with a smile. It wasn't returned.

"Goodnight, Mr. Anderson." Blaine closed the door and let out a long breath.

"Do you practice douche-baggery as hobby or was that just on the fly?" Kurt joked as he dragged himself from his hiding place.

"Kurt! What the hell! Those were COPS! I just lied to COPS! Cops who can come back here and arrest me or something when they find out I lied to them!" Now was Blaine's turn to pull at his hair and freak out.

"Chill out. I do this- used to do this all the time," Kurt smirked and finished stuffing his backpack. Blaine stared in disbelief as Kurt dug through a drawer, found a sharpie and handed it to him. "Write your number on my arm."

"What? Why?"

"So I can call you, dumbass. I know I'm not the best friend in the world, but you are, and I'd like to call and check on you if it's okay," Kurt smiled and shrugged as if they were having a normal conversation.

"Hold on, you're leaving. Like, you're running away. Kurt, no, you can't… I'm going to… Jesus, Kurt…" Blaine's hand was shaking when Kurt forced his fingers around the sharpie. They were both silent, smelling the harsh scent of the ink wafting from Kurt's forearm.

Blaine didn't move while Kurt pulled his blazer on and lifted his backpack to his shoulders. "Wallet, clothes, tooth brush, moisturizer, can you think of anything I'm forgetting?"

"Blaine? Blaine, you okay?"

"You're just leaving? That's it? Where are you going? How are you going to get there? The police are looking for you Kurt! If you run it's just going to make you look guilty for whatever reason," Blaine argued. Kurt walked over and covered his mouth. Blaine just stared, his eyes beginning to turn a little too glassy for Kurt's heart to handle.

Kurt pulled his hand away, but Blaine still didn't say anything. Uncertainly, he leaned forward and pecked a kiss to the side of Blaine's mouth. "I'll call you."

And then he was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Review and tell me if that was as anticlimactic as I think it was. -_-<strong>


	14. Oh well, life goes on

**Once again, writing Finn is still really weird for me. **

* * *

><p>Blaine ran both hand through his hair and let out a long breath. The whole situation that had unfolded around him was too surreal for comfort. It took a while for the air conditioning to kick on. The chill it brought urged him to pick up his discarded clothing and redress himself. He looked around Kurt's room and all of the things he'd left behind. "He'll come back though… he can't just be gone forever…"<p>

Always being one to cover his tracks, right before he left, he sent a text to Wes: _Hey, not a big deal but if anyone asked, you let Kurt borrow your car._

Finn sauntered down the stairs, rubbing his eyes with both hands. Curiosity spiked when he heard a strangers voice coming from the kitchen, dragging him fully into the waking world. Slowly, he crept around the wall so as not to be seen but still able to hear.

"In these sorts of cases, we can never be 100 percent sure, but we have to follow the lead. Even if it isn't your Kurt, this boy is obviously on his own," the mechanical voice Finn didn't recognize said.

"I mean it looks like him." Burt's voice was shaky from crying. "I don't know for sure, but it really looks like him. I can't believe he's in the state… where did you say he came from?"

"He took a flight from New York. It was actually a flight attendant who complained that even brought him to our attention. We investigated a little further, not thinking much of it, but someone at the station connected his photo to your son's cold case. Not only that, security cameras show that he got on a bus headed this way, to Lima before he ended up in Westerville." Finn pushed his eyebrows together, trying to understand what the stranger in his kitchen was insinuating.

"You mean he's still in Westerville?" Carol's voice asked.

"What was the date? The date he landed?" Burt asked suddenly, cutting off the last of his wife's words. Finn heard a chair scratch along the floor and drawers being pulled open and slammed shut.

"The fourteenth of June. That would make it about six weeks ago."

"Oh my god," Burt sighed. Finn peeked around the corner to watch his stepfather drop his head onto his hands.

"Burt, honey, what is-"

"The kid who threw the rock at the truck?" Finn asked. Carol whipped her head around in surprise. Finn looked to the woman he hadn't met, dressed in a plain pencil skirt and blazer, hair pulled in a tight bun.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"He was here," Burt choked out. "I didn't ever think…" He sank back to his chair. Carol put a comforting hand on his shoulder to perfect the picture definition of grief.

"We're searching all over Westerville since he ran. We should hear back from there soon. If I hear anything else, I'll be sure to let you know. And if you hear anything, have any questions, or if he attempts to contact you, give me a call," the woman said and handed each one of them a card. Finn read the tiny black letters.

Sharron Linsler seemed like she knew what she was doing, or at least took her job seriously. But Finn had never thought you'd have to be as serious as her to be a detective.

"I can show you out," Carol offered.

"Can I keep this one?" Burt asked. Finn finally noticed several pictures on the table, all in black and white.

"Of course." Carol led the woman out.

Finn looked over Burt's shoulder, scrutinizing his photocopied brother. It was most definitely the same boy from the home videos. Finn could hear the little boy in his head, singing about how they were _going to be fantastic_. This new face was the same, but had lost its baby fat. Any fat at all actually. Kurt looked scrawny, but there was no doubt in Finn's mind that it was the same kid. Most of the pictures look like security camera photos, but there was one on a piece of paper that said 'Dalton Academy' across the top with a photo ID in the corner. The name said Kurt Hanson and gave a basic physical description.

Burt's hand hovered over one photo to the next, too afraid to touch one. "Look at this one. He looks so excited, doesn't he? He was excited to be back, Finn. I know he was. He was right here… he was so close and I didn't take him home… I couldn't bring him home…" Tears crashed like heavy weights to the table.

"Come on, Burt. This isn't your fault. And besides, like the lady said, he's really close. That means he'll be here soon," Finn tried. Burt just rubbed at his eyes to intercept his tears.

"I know, Finn. I…" he paused as his body quaked with a silent sob. "I wish I had your optimism is all."

"Well, this sucks." Kurt pulled his blazer off and sighed as he let it drop into the first dumpster he'd found. "You were such an attractive jacket too. There goes that chapter of my life." _Well, not all of it… _

Kurt pulled back his shirtsleeve to look at the sharpie numbers on his forearm. He'd kept the sharpie so he could keep writing over them when they'd inevitably start to fade.

_If you die, the mortician is going to have a hell of a time scrubbing that off._

"I'm ignoring, the voice in my head, because I'm not crazy. I'm just walking down a dark town road, late at night. Totally safe," Kurt sang to no particular beat. It had been a while since he'd not been indoors this late and already missed the security of it.

"Breathe, Kurt," he told himself. Put one foot in front of the other. He wasn't even sure what direction he was headed in. By three in the morning, he'd passed several residential areas and ended up downtown_. At least here no one will look twice at someone walking this late_, Kurt thought. He passed several nightclubs that spewed out young drunks every few minutes, usually in pairs sucking at each other's necks and stumbling home.

Kurt stopped by a flashing neon light and rubbed at his tired eyes. The bouncer at the door gave him a sympathetic look.

"Long commute home too?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble but much more comforting than Kurt expected.

"Yeah, lost my bus pass. Oh well, life goes on," Kurt smiled halfheartedly.

"I feel you. Walk safe, Kid." Kurt turned around with a two-fingered wave and started in the same direction he'd been going in when he heard an angry shout and scuffle behind him.

"Get out of here, you drunk bastard," someone who seemed more tired than angry yelled. Kurt turned to see a rather messy individual being thrown out of the club by another bouncer dressed like the one Kurt had spoken to who was still standing by the door.

"Whatever you say, you're majesty," the man slurred and gave a lazy bow. He turned his head and locked eyes with Kurt before giving him a flirty grin. If he wasn't drunk and sloppy looking, Kurt would've definitely given the man a double take. He was tall and lean with just enough dark facial hair to prove his blonde hair wasn't all that natural.

"Who says you need a club to pick someone up? What're you up to tonight, babe?" Kurt rolled his eyes and started to turn around again, not in the mood to be flattering. "Where you going? Come on, let me talk to you."

"Walk the other way, man," the bouncer's deep voice ordered, but was obviously ignored. The stranger jogged up (very impressive for his state) and cut Kurt off. Not looking him in the eye, Kurt tried to sidestep.

"What's your name, pretty boy?" Step to the other side. "Come on, don't be nervous, all I wanna do is talk to you. You look like you have quite a story, hot stuff. Maybe looking for a little trouble tonight?"

"Not with you. Now move. Please," Kurt growled.

"Kid, come here," the bouncer ordered. Kurt nodded and walked quickly to stand beside the large man. " Walk away. Now." He growled at the much smaller man.

"You okay?" a hand set gently onto Kurt's shoulder, causing him to jump and twist in the air. He was faced with the worried look of yet another stranger. This one looked much more sober and had dark hair. Immediately Kurt decided this was the most attractive man he'd ever laid eyes on.

"Um, yes, thank you…" Kurt mumbled.

"Oh, you'll talk to this jackass, but not me?" the blonde complained.

"What did I just tell you to do?" the bouncer growled. "I'm getting really tired of repeating myself to your sorry ass." The blonde threw his hands up in the air and stumbled away as if they'd just wronged him terribly.

"Um, thanks," Kurt said to the two remaining stranger.

"You need to call someone to come take you home, Kid. I ain't letting you walk around this later after that." Kurt said the first thing that popped into his head. "I lost my phone," he shrugged.

"You said you lost your bus pass."

"I'm a really forgetful person…"

"You can use my phone," the sexiest man alive said. (That's what Kurt decided to call him.)

"I… I don't know my parents cell numbers by heart… because we just got new ones… so they're different…" Kurt shifted from foot to foot, getting ready to bolt.

"Well you know where you live right?" Kurt wasn't given a chance to nod. "Just let me take you home. I have to get back to my hotel anyways. Got a lot of stuff to do in the morning, that's why I'm leaving here so early. That all right with you, man? I saw what was going on here and I appreciate your concern for this stranger boy you helped out." Kurt could tell that this hottie was a schmoozer already. It was also strangely familiar and made him seem very trustworthy.

"Only if it's alright with the kid."

"Um, yes. Thank you. I'm great with you. I mean going with you," Kurt smiled. _Come on, Kurt. Pull it together. You've got to be smoother than that if you want to keep up with this guy. _

"Great, my car's parked about a block away." They said goodbye to the bouncer and the stranger put a hand nonchalantly on Kurt's back to lead him in the direction of his car. "What's your name, Kid?"

"Kurt. Thanks for the ride, by the way. I'm not sure what I would've done if you hadn't been there. Do you live around here?"

"No, I'm just in town visiting family. Let me guess, you didn't ask my name because you already know who I am," the man said, flashing a million dollar smile.

"Well, you do look familiar… I think you look like somebody I know, maybe. Brad Pitt?" Kurt tried. _Okay, I've done worse for less before. Maybe I can flirt my way into this guy's hotel room and at least have a place to sleep. _

The flirtation went right over his head.

"Here, what about this." The man put his hands on Kurt's shoulders to stop their walk and began singing, "Know your score! Free credit rating today! Dot com, start saving!" He finished it off with a wink and his finger in Kurt's face, making the later pull his head back slightly.

"Oh my gosh! You're the guy from the free credit rating dot com commercial! I remember that! It always gets stuck in my head. Like literally every time," Kurt gushed.

"Yeah, it gets stuck in everyone's heads. Pretty great, huh? Cooper Anderson, if you want me to sign anything, by the way," he said and grabbed Kurt's hand to shake it. "You're going to be able to tell all your friends you met the famous Cooper Anderson and all. I know, you're excited, that's perfectly okay. Here we are, this is mine," Cooper said, motioning towards his Chrysler on the curb.

_His last name is Anderson too, like Blaine. Why does everything remind me of him? _

_ You just need to get over him. And this sexy creature looks like a brilliant place to start._

* * *

><p><strong><em>Plot twist party maybe? I love Matt Bomer so he had to be in here somewhere.<em>**

**_Review so I know you love me. ;)_**


	15. Pretty people get away with everything

**I'm so bad at keeping up with stories. I just realized I've been writing this one for over TWO YEARS. I should be punched. **

* * *

><p>Kurt smiled as he closed the door. "Wow, I love your car. It's really nice."<p>

"Thanks. My profession allows me all sorts of perks like this. Company actually paid for this baby. So where are we going?" Kurt paused for a moment. That question was a very literal crossroad that would determine where the night, and Kurt, would end up. In the past, Kurt had done whatever it took to stay alive, things he never wanted to speak of again. It was pretty cold out now, and this guy wasn't too bad looking… Actually he was pretty sexy. Kurt looked down at his feet. Did he really want to go back to that? It seemed so distant, his whole life in New York felt like a lifetime ago.

_You've done worse for less._

But that was then, Kurt thought. This is now.

"My apartment isn't too far. Where are you staying?" Kurt said, trying to think and procrastinate.

"Hampton. It's not the Ritz, but it'll do for the night. I'll be staying with my parents and brother for the rest of the week, so it's fine," Cooper shrugged. "While I'm in town I have an audition for a very well-appointed role, not one I'm really supposed to talk about but you don't seem like a gossipy fellow so I'll hint at it with you. All I'm saying is keep an eye out for me on the movie posters next to George Cloony and Brad Pitt." He finished it off with a wink.

Kurt realized Cooper was waiting for a reply. Or praise.

"Oh yeah, wow, that's really impressive. I mean, not surprising what with your amazing acting abilities and dashingly handsome good looks," Kurt smirked, 'batting his eyelashes' per say.

"I know," Cooper said, flashing his smile and cheekbones. "What was your name again?"

"Uh, not again, you never asked, it's Kurt. Turn right," Kurt gestured.

"Well Kurt, I'm glad I could rescue you from that persistent drunk. I bet you can't wait to tell all your friends about how you were being harassed and Cooper Anderson saved your life. Maybe soon, when I have a little more notoriety, a couple of news stations and magazines will want to hear your side of it. And how I rescued you," Cooper laughed.

"Of course, and I'll tell them how heroic you were," Kurt smiled, giving into the man's delusions. _Pretty people get away with everything._ "Here, it's this one." Kurt said, pointing to a nondescript, homey looking apartment complex. "Thanks for the ride, Mr. Anderson."

"No problem, Kurt. You're not here alone, are you?" _Damn._ Kurt thought. _Maybe he was thinking he was getting some tonight. Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world I guess… But what about Blaine? Would this be cheating? Are Blaine and I even a thing? I guess we're kind of a thing. _

"Uh, I don't know. Parents… parental units, the pair of parents that I do in fact have… may or may not be home at this present time. Why?" _If I could bitch slap you… bitch slap myself, I would._

"Oh, alright, well is that it? I mean, do I need to walk you up or-"

"If you're wanting what I think you're wanting, we have to go back to your hotel," Kurt finally spat out. _Why pussyfoot around it? Just toss yourself out there. How alluring._

SHUT UP DAMMIT!

"Oh! Oh no, oh gosh, I didn't mean it like that!" The air in the car suddenly felt thicker. Kurt felt his hand sweating against the door handle, ready to escape at the drop of a hat. "I'm not gay! And I don't know how old you are but I'm not a pedophile either! I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to seem like that at all!" Kurt's cheeks never felt so hot.

"I'm sorry. I… I'm sorry, have a nice night. Thank you for the ride," Kurt muttered, unable to look Cooper in the eyes as he opened the door and set a foot on the ground.

"Wait! Kurt, you don't really… I mean, you're not actually.. doing that, are you? I mean, you seem like a good kid and I just hate for you to be in that situation. For anyone to be in that situation," Cooper stuttered. _Stop; call the presses. Was that actual concern I just heard? _

"No, I'm not a hooker, if that's what you're asking. Just… just really damn confused and really damn desperate. And at the moment, really damn embarrassed," Kurt growled, still looking at his feet, feeling Cooper's eyes on him. "Thank you for the ride Mr. Anderson." Kurt tripped out of the car and started trampling his way towards the building.

"Kurt! Kurt! Wait up!" Cooper cried out the passenger window as it rolled down. Kurt ignored him and started running towards the back of the complex, hoping it would appear as though he were making his way inside one of the apartments. He waited until he saw the headlights of the Chrysler passed over the fence before heading back towards the direction of the street.

_Well today was a whole lot of nothing!_

Then why am I exhausted?

In bigger cities, they think the residential areas should be all bohemian and uneven. Instead of running grid like New York City, they run more like the Yellow Brick Road or a map drawn by an art student. This is where Kurt spent the next few hours of the night before lowering his inhibitions enough to pass out in a once neon green playground tunnel.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are like the crack of a whip and will make me write faster. No yoke. <strong>


	16. Uh, Dad! Daddy! Father!

I was sitting on a park bench. I didn't feel anything yet, but something was coming. I wasn't angry, but I knew I needed to be. Light from the road made me lift my arm to block my eyes, but as my arm rose, so did my legs. I don't know how the rock fell into my hand, but it made my whole right side sag. In a heartbeat, I was in the middle of the street, the rock still cold and heavy in my hand. To my right was the truck, a whole in the rear window and the man inside screaming. To my left were the headlights again, getting brighter and brighter. I dropped the rock and walked toward them, wanting to be crushed the way my mother crushed herself.

"What's your problem, Kid?" my father's voice asked from behind me.

_My problem is my life._

"Wake up, kid." My father orders, but I keep walking towards the headlights. So easily and this could all be over. "Come on you can't sleep here." _My problem is that I can't sleep here. Not in the middle of the road? Hot dammit._

Kurt squinted his eyes as far as they were willing to open.

"Please kid, you're scaring some of the mothers." Kurt tried to nod, rub his eyes and move his legs all at the same time to convince this stranger he was awake.

"M' sorry. I'm up," Kurt mumbled as he tried to maneuver himself awkwardly inside the tunnel.

"Here ya' go." Without warning, the man's hands were on Kurt's biceps, dragging him horizontally and onto his feet. Shock sparked on Kurt's face the second he realized this man's uniform. Sharp shoulders, body think from a bullet proof vest, a gun on his hip.

_Fucking cops._

"Alright, wave to the nice ladies who called me when they saw a homeless man on the playground," the cop ordered, keeping one hand firmly on Kurt's opposite bicep, the other waving. Kurt waved, keeping his eyes on Officer Friendly. "Look at these good mothers, keeping their children safe. Bu-bye now!" He called. Kurt wanted to do some yelling himself, especially when he saw the surprise on some of their faces at seeing how young he was. _Yeah, I wasn't going to molest and murder your children, you glorified domestic house cats. _

"Someone's not a morning person. What's your name, Kid?" The cop kept his grip tight but not painful on Kurt's arm as they walked across the park towards the squad car.

"Uh, Max. I'm Max and I'm sorry I didn't realize sleeping in the little Mario tunnel was illegal," Kurt stuttered, keeping his panic at bay. His eyes darted around the landscape, pinpointing possible escape routes.

"It isn't, but when I see kids sleeping outside I try not to assume the worst. Maybe you were out late partying, passed out drunk on a playground. That's usually the truth."

"Uh, no, because drinking under the age of 21 is illegal in the United States so I would never do that." The police officer, who's nametag read S. Meyer, put Kurt's back against his car and stayed in front of him, making Kurt's getaway look grim. "Are you going to arrest me? Because I don't think you can. Legally," Kurt said, crossing his arms the way S. Meyer crossed his.

"Really, under these circumstances, I'd usually bring you in and have you call your parents to have them come pick you up."

"But! You said usually so that means you have a but at the end of that!"

"But… I'm near the end of my shift and I don't want to have to do that paperwork. You're still calling your dad, though," the cop said.

"I don't have my cell phone…"

"Yeah, you weren't drinking," the cop rolled his eyes and nodded towards a payphone at the end of the block. He opened the passenger side door of his squad car. "Get in."

As Kurt sat in the passenger side of a cop car, he thanked whatever deity was out there (because if there was one, better thank it for everything and if there wasn't, it wasn't hurting anything.) He thanked God for the fact that he was in the passenger side and not the back, and he thanked Him that there were actually nice men in the world like S. Meyer. Kurt had met the worst of humanity and the best of humanity. Suddenly he missed Nelly.

"Out. Out, come on," S. Meyer ushered. They both got out of the car. S. Meyer dropped several quarters in Kurt's hand and leaned against the hood, keeping an eye on Kurt the whole time.

_You have no one else to call, Puppy! Best get on your begging knees!_

Kurt growled at the voice in his head and tried to make it look like he was fumbling with the quarters as he pulled his sleeve up and pressed in the numbers with the joints in his fingers to avoid touching the disgusting payphone.

"Please pick up. Please pick up. Please pick up," Kurt whispered, glancing back at the cop behind him. He could feel his heart thump in his throat.

"Hello?" The sound of Blaine's voice was a surprise; Kurt pressed his ear to the phone, not caring about the unidentifiable black gunk around the rim. Kurt hadn't thought he'd ever hear that voice again and wanted to get closer to it. "Hellooo?"

"Uh, Dad! Daddy! Father! It's Max," Kurt racked his brain and wanted to slap himself. He could feel Officer S. Meyer's eyes on the back of his neck.

"Excuse me?" Blaine asked. Kurt was going to have to think fast if he didn't want to get hung up on.

"Dad! Uh, sorry, Kurt, my friend, Kurt Hanson and I were out really late last night."

"Kurt, is that you?"

"Yes! Yes, that's the one."

"You're in trouble." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah… yeah… I kind of walked all the way into the city and that's where I am and I'm so sorry and I'm sorry to ask but can you come and get me? Please?" Kurt waited with the silence on the other end of the phone.

"I'm right on the edge of the city. I'm with my family, but I'm going to talk to my brother, okay? I'll tell him it's an emergency and I'll see if I can use his car," Blaine said.

"Dad, Blaine isn't old enough for that, okay? Don't tell him, just please come and get me."

"Okay, I get it. Someone's watching you? Gatta have an older guy pick you up?"

"Yes, thank you for finally getting it!" Kurt said in his best whiny teenage voice.

"I'm going to figure it out. Don't worry. Where are you?" Kurt glanced around for the different street signs.

"Sherry Park off Matkins Street," the cop said, noticing the struggle.

"Sherry Park off Matkins Street," Kurt repeated.

"Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can, I promise."

"Thanks Dad."

"Bye Kurt. I l… I'll see you soon."

Blaine put his phone in his pocket and ran down the stairs. "Cooper! Cooper, hey, you want to do me a super big favor?"


End file.
